Halfway to Hell
by Clio S.S
Summary: Takasugi Shinsuke and his greatest happiness as well as his greatest lost. Dedicated to Selyann.


**A/N.**

This story doesn't follow the manga original, let alone historical version. I just wanted some drama.

Speaking of which, I hope the main hero isn't too angsty -_-' If he is, please forgive me.

I suppose the characters are some 16 years old here. Also, I located the school well outside Hagi (while in reality it was situated right in the middle of the town; I don't know about the manga, though).

Dedicated to Selyann, who sensified me to Shinsuke-Shōyō relation.

* * *

**Halfway to Hell**

* * *

_Sillä ilman sinua hukun öihin sekaviin ja ilman sinua olen puolitiessä helvettiin_

(For without you I drown into confusing nights and without you I'm halfway to hell)

_- Hector/Jippu & Samuli Edelmann, „Jos sä tahdot niin"_

* * *

It was well past nightfall, but the full moon was giving enough light to travel safely - although these days 'safely' was pretty elusive term. That there was no soul on the road didn't mean that one could afford to be careless, and in different circumstances Shinsuke would undoubtedly be more vigilant. Now, however, his mind was occupied with more important and distressing matters than presumptive threats he could encounter on the way, and thus he didn't devote much attention to them.

The war spread wider and wider, and it became more and more unclear as who was the main enemy. It had started with an invasion of the aliens - creatures that on day had simply come from the sky, from outer space, and decided to conquer Japan. The samurai had taken up arms to fend the aggressors off, even though they had been at a disadvantage because of the enemy's numbers and... technology. Still, they'd been prepared to fight until their last breath - as bushidō dictated and honoured urged - to protect the country from the alien yoke; it was natural and understandable. It was likely that they would have died, every last one, and Japan would have got under the rule of the invaders anyway, but it was the faith and moral code that mattered. They couldn't have done anything else. Even though the situation had been difficult, the Japanese people had accepted it and supported their warriors in the defensive war.

Then, however, something had happened that went beyond the established order and shook the reality: the government had started to negotiate with the enemy - or, rather, to plan the unconditional surrender of Japan. The first rumours had been so absurd that people couldn't really believe them, but then they had got more and more proofs on what could be called a high treason, except that the traitor was the head of state and the victim was the whole nation. Soon, everyone had had to acknowledge the hard and cruel truth that the Shogun had rather yield Japan to the aliens, make a concession and even establish cooperation in order to live and stay in power than hang on the honour that commanded to fight to the last and die a noble death. 'Acknowledge' didn't mean 'accept', though. The samurai, that had always considered themselves an embodiment and protectors of Japanese spirit, couldn't stand such a humiliation and had turned their swords against the Bakufu, starting a civil war that had soon changed into the guerrilla warfare when the official treaty had been concluded and the country had entered an occupation.

Yoshida Shōyō didn't conceal what he thought of such a decay of the government. Shame, disgrace, cowardice, corruption, and similar terms could be heard during his lessons. When the students had begun to repeat the teacher's view in their homes - in law-abiding houses - some parents had become alarmed. Even if they'd agreed with Shōyō inwardly (Shinsuke believed that the society had never really accepted the current order of things, but it could also be a naivety on his part), they hadn't wanted to endanger their families by associating with the man who openly opposed the authorities. Soon, Sensei's revolutionary ideas had reached the Bakufu, that had forbidden the teacher to talk in such way, regarding it not only as a criticism of the state politics but also as an incentive for all anti-government movements that were still waging war. Sensei didn't care about it in the slightest; he was of the opinion that the truth should be told even when it was inconvenient, and especially then. Recently, not a week would pass without the official admonition being sent from Hagi, and sometimes even a representative of the Shogunate would take a trouble to visit the school to enforce obedience of the teacher, either with threat or bribe, always leaving empty-handed. No argument could shake the principles of the man who, after all, _taught_ bushidō; he wouldn't betray them even facing death.

Shinsuke admired the teacher's attitude - and was so proud of him! - but at the same time he feared for his safety. He knew perfectly well that for Sensei the moral code was more important than anything and that Sensei wouldn't hesitate to pay the highest price for keeping it - quite the contrary, he would do it gladly - yet he couldn't stop being anxious... fearing for his life, even though, thinking this way, he appeared disrespectful and weak. For a samurai, honour was more important than life, yet he, Takasugi Shinsuke, seriously wondered whether he would be able to cast away the honour to save the life - not his own, but the man's he admired most of all and for whom he would do absolutely anything. It seemed he really was a poor student if his views on that matter differed so much from his mentor's...

He shook his head and fixed his eyes on the road. They still had some way ahead, but they should arrive home by midnight - until then he was going to remain in suspense. He immersed in thought again, trusting walking to his instincts.

In any case, Sensei hadn't yielded to the demands of the authorities, but some families had taken their children from his school anyway. The court in Hagi had long since ceased the funds and provisions, and the servants had left frightened, so, material wise, the situation didn't look good either. Shinsuke knew that Sensei didn't teach for money, yet he realized that children had to be guaranteed the basic conditions; being hungry didn't promote one's development although it could sometimes polish one's characters. When the bands of strangers had started to be seen in the vicinity, Sensei had decided to send the last students to their families - until the situation changed for better - in order to not endanger them.

Shinsuke and Zura were on their way back from Nagato, having escorted two boys there. Sensei suggested that they spend the night in the city, but Shinsuke hadn't given the idea a single thought. He was already displeased with the fact he had to leave the school, if only temporarily, but Gintoki had been unwell from the very morning and Sensei had insisted that the boys be accompanied by _two_ people. The outcome hadn't pleased anyone: not him, not the students, who didn't like him, nor Zura, who must have felt similar way, which he used to show every now and then - and even if he hadn't, Shinsuke would have known it anyway, for he rarely meet with different treatment. He knew he was unsociable and withdrawn, he avoided contact with others and hardly ever smiled, and he easily got annoyed with others' behaviour. People like him always were disliked, while Gintoki was friendly by nature and Zura just loved to have people around him... Not that Shinsuke cared for what kids or anyone could think of him; what mattered to him was the opinion of the only one person, and with him he tried to hold his biting tongue. Well, it wasn't that hard since Shōyō-sensei always abashed him - and evoked so many other feelings that it made him feel uneasy. Suffice it to say that, in Sensei's presence, Shinsuke used to be calm and quiet, at least on the surface.

So, he couldn't have declined Sensei's request, even though it meant spending the entire day in smothering anxiety, which indeed happened. He quickened his pace; he wanted to return home as soon as possible - the place that all his body and spirit longed to. He wanted to make sure everything was all right, finally quiet - if only for a while - that fear he could feel under his very skin. And never leave again. There was no reason anyway; the boys they had just escorted with Zura were the last ones sent back to their families. Gintoki, Zura and he no longer qualified as students; they were already adult, and the school was home they wanted to stay in. Gintoki had lived there ever since, so it was obvious in his case; Shinsuke and Zura did have their families in Hagi, but Shinsuke didn't give it much attention - and didn't get much either. Father probably still treated him as a kid, or simply had long ago realized that Shinsuke would had it his way anyway, outraging and uncommon as it was since children's obedience to their parents was an absolute law. Zura, too, had managed to persuade his parents to let him stay in Shōyō's place, although the arguments he'd used didn't interest Shinsuke in the slightest.

In any case, there were only four of them now: Sensei and their trio - no longer students, rather followers, maybe even companions, although Shinsuke knew that he would always regard Yoshida Shōyō as his teacher. However, the bond he shared with Sensei couldn't simply be described in one word; it was deeper than a student-master relation and stronger than any blood connection. For his part, it was a complete devotion and desire to stay with him for ever. Shinsuke suspected he wouldn't leave Sensei's side even on the man's direct request.

"Takasugi, wait...! Don't rush so much!" Zura called from behind.

Shinsuke ignored him. He didn't care about his own fatigue after being on his feet most of the day; if needed, he was ready to walk the whole night. "Zura, don't tell me you're tired...?" he said with a taunt.

"No, there's just no use to hurry. Home wouldn't leave..."

Shinsuke turned around and gave Zura disgusted look, which couldn't be seen in the darkness anyway. 'What do you know, Zura...' he thought and fixed his eyes on the highway again. He realized he was nearly running; he was too anxious to walk at normal pace.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been staying in Sensei's school; he'd lost count of time. It seemed to him that his life had started from the moment he'd gone through its door and seen the gentle smile of the teacher; everything before had become insignificant. He rarely left the place; of course, sometimes he had to pay a visit to his family, but he hadn't done it often in last years. His real home was... there. He had always been by Sensei's side. Maybe it was the reason why he felt so uncomfortable to leave him for just one day? He had grown accustomed... attached... to always being close to him. In spite of being hot from the physical effort, he could feel the blush creeping onto his face. Suddenly, he was happy it was dark.

He couldn't even say where his admiration originated from - or, rather, if asked, he could talk all night, but in reality he didn't want nor intend to talk with anyone about it. He could hide behind the samurai saying, 'My father gave me life; my mentor made me a man,' that ordered to revere the teachers as much as one's parents, (in his case the proportion was significantly shifted, though), but in his case it was much more than a blind devotion. To him, Yoshida Shōyō seemed an ideal being that might have descended from some heights that no normal man could ever reach. He was wise, good and righteous. His views were clear, and he didn't hesitate to voice them, yet he could also reach out to those who were weaker. He radiated light, and it was not only his inner beauty that dazzled but also his exterior: always in light clothes, tall and slender, with those long fair hair and gentle smile. Compared to him, Shinsuke felt like a boor and a failure of a human, and thus he admired the man even more. He didn't imagine that anyone could be indifferent to Sensei's charm - which, at the same time, made him feel fierce jealousy. Deep inside, he believed no-one had a right to _his_ Sensei.

Of course, he didn't show it; in his presence, he was like others. When still a child, he would give away his feeling with an indiscreet word or declaration every now and then, but later he'd learned to contain them inside. Gintoki and Zura probably knew how deep his dedication was - not that Zura would ever _grasp_ it - but even if they had used to tease him about that, nowadays no-one was in mood for it. They tried to pretend that everything was all right, but the atmosphere in the school was tense. The lessons had ended, and Sensei used to spend most of time in his study, writing letters, so the three of them couldn't find any other way to occupy themselves than a training. Maybe they sensed that soon they would be forced to take up arms, even though Sensei didn't encourage them with a single world; he wanted that they make the decision themselves.

The road was ascending now, so he slowed down, letting Zura catch up with him. They climbed a small hill - there were many of them in the area, and some even allowed to see the sea from afar - when suddenly Zura grabbed his sleeve. Shinsuke, instinctively tearing himself loose, looked up... and felt his heart stopped, even though it had been pounding just a moment ago due to the effort. Against the blackness of the eastern skies a glow could be seen, its source invisible from the distance. Shinsuke's first thought was that the war had finally reached this region... and then he stopped thinking and hurled himself down the hill, paying no attention to Zura's shout behind his back.

It was no longer an anxiety, filling him since the morning; it was a terror that clenched his throat, squeezed his chest and made thinking impossible. His reason tried to talk to him, calm him down, indicating it could be something else, anything... but his head was echoing with just one name, as if he wanted to reach over the distance and catch the mind of the only person that mattered to him. He already blamed himself for having agreed to leave. He should have stayed; he should have done anything, even expose himself to Sensei's displeasure, to stay and not leave. He was right... although now he wished he weren't. He prayed that he weren't, but his heart urged him to run though the night, for he knew that prayers and wishes were often not enough when faced with harsh reality. He ran and ran; soon, he was short of breath, yet he didn't stop. Roar of blood in his ears drowned out all other noises until it seemed to him there was only that thumping existing in the world. Red spots swirled before his eyes but were unable to obscure that glow that he was making his way towards and couldn't take his eyes off.

The moon had shifted on the sky when, staggering, he finally reached the familiar plain. The glow of fire had already diminished; it took only a few hours for one wooden building to burn. He made a final effort to run again, taking that terrifying - and saddening, too - view in his widened eyes. The beams were burning out with a crackle, and Shinsuke knew he would always remember that horrible sound. Except that, it was quiet... dead, as if there wasn't a single soul in here. He couldn't hear night birds nor crickets, only that crackle coming from the place that had been a country school only last morning. He choked and then coughed when the wind blew the smoke to him, irritating his already strained lungs. Tears filled his eyes, and his heart clenched in pain.

"Sensei..." he whispered and coughed again. "Sensei...!"

He thought he could see something move against the fire, so he rushed there in desperate hope. He almost tripped over a body on the grass that he hadn't noticed because of his tears. He wiped his eyes and had a look: a corpse - and there another and another... Some soldiers in strange clothes... They had fought their last fight here... But it didn't matter. Impatiently, he wiped new tears, ignoring the fact it wasn't good for his eyes. By the fence - or what was left of it - Gintoki was sitting. Turned away from the fire, he was staring blankly at the road in front of him. There was no doubt as to who had produced those corpses, but it didn't matter either...

"Gintoki..." Shinsuke whispered, choking the smoke out. "Sensei... Where is Sensei?"

Gintoki raised his eyes on him but seemed to not recognize him.

Shinsuke clenched his fists. "Gintoki!" he screamed and shook his shoulders. "Where is Shōyō-sensei?!"

"They took him," Gintoki answered, his voice as lifeless as his gaze.

Shinsuke let go of him and stepped back, looking at what was left of the house. The relief he'd felt, lasted only a split second. Sensei was alive, but it didn't mean he was safe. How... Why... Why had it happened?

He looked at Gintoki again, and then his face contorted. He grabbed him by the yukata and shook again. "Why didn't you stop them?! What were you here for?! Why didn't you do anything?! You-"

"Takasugi, stop it! Can't you see he's tied and wounded?" Zura got between them and pushed him away. Gintoki fell to his knees again, never letting a sound; he seemed a rag doll submitting to others' will. His yukata was stained with blood, and he had a cut on his neck; it was obvious he hadn't given up without a fight, but it was still not enough, all of that didn't matter since...

"How could you let them do it?!" Shinsuke cried, clenching his fists again.

Zura cast a hateful look at him and then started to untie Gintoki's hands. Shinsuke regarded that in silence, feeling he would fly at those two any moment.

"He said he would come back," Gintoki spoke without emotion and then fixed his eyes on him. "He said he would soon come back to us..."

"They will kill him," Shinsuke whispered and felt he was choking. "They are going to kill him..."

"Don't dramatize, Takasugi. Why should they do it?" Zura threw, helping Gintoki up. "He promised to come back. Trust him. Did he ever lie to us?"

Anger made Shinsuke overcome the dizziness. He'd never hated Zura as much as he did now, but there was no time for it. The dreadful thought caught onto his mind and wouldn't leave. "Where did they take him?" he demanded. "Gintoki, where did they take him?!"

But Gintoki couldn't answer.

"To Hagi..." Shinsuke was thinking aloud; then he wiped his face. "And even if they didn't, someone must know something," he said, making his decision.

"Takasugi, you're not going..." Zura started, but Shinsuke already turned back. "Takasugi! What can you do all alone?!"

Shinsuke forgot them as soon as they left his sight. What he could do all alone didn't matter; he would do all he could. His muscles protested when he forced them to make another effort, but he didn't care. The smoke that had managed to penetrate his hair and clothes, itched his throat every now and then, but it was not time and place to pamper himself. He turned onto the road to the town and ran as fast as his tired legs and irritated lungs let him. Determination gave him strength when it felt like he had none left.

The following events merged into one, and later he couldn't remember them clearly - left in his memory was only pounding of his heart, maddening fear, desperate resolve, and pale eye of the moon that witnessed his actions indifferently. Talking to the city guards; they had been ordered to let no-one through the gate by night. Paying a visit in the magistrate; the officials didn't tell him anything and sent him to the castle instead. Attempting to get into the daimyō's stronghold, failed. Waking his family in the middle of the night and begging his father for help. Displeasure, exasperation, contempt focused on him - he bore with it without a word of complaint, bowing with his head down and waiting for a reply. He would do anything... he would promise anything so that he could see Sensei. So that he could see him again... talk to him... tell him...

Save him.

It must have been a misunderstanding, he thought, curled up on the mat of his family house, trying to regain his calm. And he, Takasugi Shinsuke, was surely exaggerating. He had reacted too emotionally, governed by his heart. The daimyō had simply lost his patience as Sensei had kept ignoring his reprimands, and so he had ordered to bring the man to the castle to reason with him. The school had been burned so that Sensei could no longer meddle in children's heads and pass the revolutionary messages on to them; they must have been unaware of the fact that the school had already been closed and the students had returned to their homes. The daimyō would show his displeasure with Sensei, maybe even punish him - the worst possible option seemed a few days of imprisonment - and that would be it; Sensei hadn't done anything to be punished in a more severe way. As he'd promised, he would soon return to them, and then Shinsuke would never leave his side.

That was how he tried to calm his nerves, and he even succeeded, a bit. Still, his stomach was tied in a tight knot, and he didn't manage to eat the onigiri his mother had prepared for him; he only drank some water and curled up on the mat again, pressing his limbs closer to overcome their tremble. _Everything will be all right_, he repeated like a mantra, but his heart wouldn't slow down.

"Yoshida Shōyō was taken to the camp of the government army stationed east of Hagi," said his father upon coming back from the castle, where his friend held an office of a direct advisor to the daimyō. "At dawn, he is going to be executed in the Kasaya," he added in a voice devoid of any emotion.

Shinsuke stared at him blankly, wondering whether he'd heard wrong... or he'd already gone mad... Fear he'd managed to forget for a moment, was back, and doubled. He felt as cold as if the blood stopped running in his veins. "At dawn," he repeated in a whisper, as if it was the most important thing; then he jumped to his feet and slid open the door to the garden.

It was still night, although most of it had already passed. He swayed - be it from relief, feeling of helplessness, or fatigue - but quickly regained his balance. There was no time. Suddenly, he was under the impression that he could hear every passing second shortening his life - or was it beating of his heart? Wasn't the darkness of the eastern sky getting pale? Wasn't the breeze coming from the sea again? Couldn't he hear the birds waking up already? His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips, trying not to give in to another surge of fear and regain his sanity... but he couldn't drive away the despair and feeling that everything was pointless. Thousand scenarios and plans ran through his head, but he had to discard every one of them under the paralysing realization that there was _no time for anything._

Being reasonable wouldn't help; in the end, he had to listen to his heart. He forgot his father, forgot his home and ran into the night again to speed, hurry, try to get where his place was: by Sensei's side.

He went past the forests, fields and waking villages, not really seeing them. His legs could barely carry him, every breath seemed to tear his lungs, and he had no strength to keep his head up. He had no strength to think; he only focused on making yet another step, stumbling and losing his balance all the time. At some point, he forgot where he was heading for and why - until the pang in his chest brought him round. His eyes were itching, but he had no tears left. Again, the hopelessness of the situation and his own weakness hit him, almost knocking him off his feet, when he realized he was unable to do anything. Sensei... Shōyō-sensei... He was going to lose him in a moment, unable to save him, unable to tell him what he meant to him... Too late, it was all too late - and that thought suffocated him. But he kept walking, staggering and falling every now and then, and every second drew him closer to the man who was the only light of his life. He kept walking as if being pulled by the invisible rope - the bond that had connected them so long ago.

The dawn had never seemed so scary before. The eastern skies began to lighten when he reached Kasaya. Despite the early hour, there was a little crowd gathered on the execution grounds, probably the villagers forced to witness the punishment before going to their fields. It was quiet; the people were standing in silence, their faces shut, displeased with such an act of the government. When a sigh ran through the crowd, Shinsuke realized that the prisoners must have been brought out, and his heart leapt again. He pushed through the throng - he had to get closer... had to see, and he was too short to see over others' heads - when the names and offences started to be read; upon hearing Sensei's name, the gathered murmured louder. Finally, Shinsuke got to the very front and stood by the fence. It took him a while to muster his courage and raise his head - and once he'd done so, he had to brace himself against the wooden pales in order to not collapse, not only due to his exhaustion.

"...opposing the government, making false complaint, and inciting to revolt," the official read, and his words seemed to Shinsuke as unreal as the whole situation.

Only yesterday... everything was all right. How could it happen that today he was here...? How could it happen that his teacher, with whom he'd spoken only the previous morning, was now here, kneeling on the ground with hand tied behind his back, in crumpled clothes after the night in prison, with long hair tousled... and with so serene face? How could it be ever possible? Maybe it was just a bad dream that often tormented him, a one he would soon wake up from... But the dream wasn't disappearing, it lasted, and every passing second... every beat of his heart, that was bursting to that figure in white clothes, hurt terribly.

"Sensei..." he wanted to call out, but only a rasp got out of his throat.

Sensei, who taught, supported, and cared. He was a mentor but also a parent, older brother, and a friend. He was somebody one could open his eyes in the morning for and go to sleep in the evening thinking of. He was someone better, wiser, always knew more and didn't concede inequity. He was the only person Shinsuke had ever loved - and now he was to go away, accused of wrongdoing he'd never committed, yet accepting the sentence and preparing for it with pride. His face was calm, as if he weren't to meet his death. No, as if he welcomed the death as an old friend, like befitted a samurai.

An executor stood behind him and raised a sword. Shinsuke started. "Sensei...!" he tried again, and it filled him with despair to hear how quiet his voice was.

But it could be that Sensei heard him regardless, for that very moment he raised his gaze and looked directly at him. It was only then that a painful expression appeared on his face but quickly vanished, replaced by a smile that Shinsuke knew so well and always yearned for. For a split second, everything disappeared, as if it was only the two of them in the world... He drowned into those light eyes, expressing so much: joy, gratitude, devotion, and acceptance. Shinsuke's vision blurred, yet he managed to see Shōyō's lips forming a word, 'Thank you.'

The first sunlight flickered on the sword that fell down in one precise move, taking two victims.

"SENSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEI!"

Shinsuke sank to the ground with a feeling that a blade pierced through his heart. A sob escaped him although he tried to stifle it, hold it, knowing such display didn't befit a samurai; in vain. He pressed his hands close to his chest, yet he couldn't stop the shiver of his body, as if he was going to fall to pieces.

_Sensei was gone._

He felt the grains of sand on his forehead, and he wished he could sink in the soil, vanish, perish... The realization was overwhelming, it thumped in his head, devouring everything else and evoking despair that he couldn't escape.

_Sensei was gone._

There was no point in anything now, no sense, no reason… He had lost everything that mattered to him, in just one moment he had lost everything... and didn't know why his fate had to be so harsh. No-one in the world could be more unhappy than him. He felt as if all people turned against him and hurt him in the most cruel way.

_Sensei was gone._

He wept and cried, repeating his teacher's name and knowing he would never hear an answer, but the sobbing couldn't comfort him. He was short of breath and started to choke, but the inner pain was much more excruciating than physical one. No-one could bear with such pain; death seemed a mercy compared with it.

"Hey, who are you?" a cold voice penetrated through his grief. "Get up!" Something sharp pricked his sore side, and he withdrew reflexly. "I'm talking to you!"

He didn't move, cringed on the ground. The sobbing finally ceased, but the wound in his soul kept bleeding profusely. Suddenly, he was pulled up by his shoulders and brought to his feet. His head was spinning, and he didn't dare to open his eyes...

"What kind of spectacle are you making here? What is your name? Speak quickly!"

Slowly, he lifted his eyelids, wondering how come the world still existed. The sun was rising over the horizon, warming as it had been doing every day before. A bird flew across the sky. The cicadas were waking up... As if nothing had happened. As if nothing had changed. As if the life hadn't been ended.

He focused his gaze. The commoners - the spectators - were gone. He was surrounded by a group of soldiers ordered to supervise the execution. He felt a twinge in his chest, as if a warning. They were giving him a hostile looks, but people always looked at him that way. Always? When always? When he'd been still alive...? He felt dizzy again.

"Are you a mute?" a man, apparently a leader, asked. "Or an idiot?"

Shinsuke clenched his jaw and then relaxed. "I'm..." he started hoarsely and coughed. "I am... Takasugi Shinsuke," he whispered. "I was... I am... the disciple of Yoshida Shōyō," he said in a louder voice, involuntarily pulling one hand close to his chest.

The soldiers murmured. Their captain cast a reluctant glance at him and said nothing; apparently, he wondered what to do with him. The silence prolonged, and only impatient shuffling and clank of swords were to be heard when the soldiers tried to hide their confusion. Shinsuke forced himself not to turn his head and look at the place his teacher's body was lying. He clenched his fists to overcome the quivering of fingers and succeeded. He straightened his back and let his arms fall; instead, he raised his face and looked the captain in the eye.

All of the sudden - unbelievably - he felt his fatigue was gone, all that exhaustion of the last hours. The blood started to rush in his veins again, making him feel warm and then hot, drying his tears. His weary arms became light, and his legs seemed to forget the strain. For the first time in very long, he was able to take a deep breath again and let the air fill his lungs all the way to the ribs. The pain in his chest didn't vanish, yet it turned into something that strengthened him, not weakened. The world stopped swaying and suddenly seemed crystal clear - with the sun, the sky and those people surrounding him. People? No, they didn't deserve to be called that. His face contorted with hate.

"I am the disciple of Yoshida Shōyō," he repeated, and this time his voice didn't fail him, "whom you bastards have killed. Go to hell!"

He jumped the soldier closest to him and tore his sword from the sheath. In the same smooth move he cut the one on the other side and, making a turn, another one. Two corpses were already lying at his feet when the soldiers realized what was happening - but it didn't matter, for he didn't stop only struck again and again, mowing his opponents down. He knew he didn't stand a chance - he was alone against the thirty - but it was of no importance; he didn't fight to survive, quite the contrary. He was resolved to take with him as many as possible. As a samurai, he'd failed when he couldn't protect what was dear to him; however, he could take vengeance and save his honour that way.

'Wait for me, Shōyō-sensei,' he thought, pulling the sword from the body of one enemy and killing another. 'I'll join you soon.'

The blow to the head made him stagger and let out of the arms, and then everything became dark, which he welcomed with relief.

* * *

The consciousness was returning to him slowly. At first, he remained in some vague state and shapeless space and only was aware of his own existence. Later, he remembered who he was. He didn't know how long it was before he came to. Gathering his thoughts seemed difficult, so he decided to concentrate on physical sensations, which was mostly a pain. Simultaneously, he felt strange numbness, and maybe it was the reason behind the problems with thinking.

He was alive, and it made him feel uncomfortable. It seemed he'd waked up after a long dream or a sickness. When he tried to move, the pain grew stronger - in his head, chest, and limbs. Sharp, prickling, attacking many different places; he realized it was the pain that sword injuries created. That thought made his heart beat faster. He knew he had to remember what had happened, but at the same time it seemed to him he didn't really want to.

He opened his eyes and saw the wooden ceiling. As much as throbbing in his head let him, he looked around the place. He was in an unfamiliar shed and didn't know how he'd got here. It was calm and quiet, the sunlight was coming inside through open door and small window; he could hear the birds sing outside. He turned his head to the left; Gintoki was sitting by the wall, sleeping, and that view made his heart leap again. Sword injuries, Gintoki... Could it be that they had fought? But Shōyō-sensei had long since forbid them from duelling...

Something wrenched his insides, terrible pain pierced through his chest, and he thought his head would split in two. He was unable to hold back a cry escaping his mouth when the memory returned to him... so dreadful, so atrocious… yet real.

He covered his face, digging his fingers into his eyes, as if trying to erase that image from his mind. But he knew that Sensei's last gaze would torment him until the very end - the eyes of the beloved man he couldn't save. The hole in his heart... the open wound was still bleeding. If his arm or leg were ripped off, he certainly wouldn't feel worse. No, he would gladly give away both his arms and legs, he would give away everything if it could reverse what had happened - but such wishes were pointless. He cringed, giving to the pain again, and bit his lips. He started to shiver as if he was going to fall to pieces; that was what he wanted. He should have died and follow Sensei - the why, oh why, was he still alive?

"Takasugi, you've come to," he heard the familiar voice, and the next moment Zura entered the room and approached the bucket. "Here, have some water. How are you? Your wounds weren't fatal, but you've lost a lot of blood."

Shinsuke accepted a bamboo cup and swilled its content, his teeth clattering. "How..." he rasped. "What happened...?"

"We made it in time," Zura replied. "Little longer, and they would have cut you down. You shouldn't have-"

"Zura... Sensei... Where is Shōyō-sensei?" Shinsuke interrupted him.

Zura turned away. "You should rest," he said. "I'm going to make you some food."

"Zura..." Shinsuke felt he was choking.

"We buried him not so far from here," Gintoki answered.

Shinsuke clenched his teeth. Hearing it said aloud... He must have had some irrational hope, but Gintoki's words, so irrevocable, put an end to it. For a moment, he was sure the pain tearing his chest apart would never leave. But it should be like that, right? What it would make of him if he'd ever stop suffering? Yet the pain was paralyzing and almost rendering unconscious... He buried his face in his hands again.

"We're in the forest, south to Hagi. We're hiding," Zura spoke although Shinsuke didn't ask him. "That's why we couldn't call a doctor. But our care must have sufficed since you've come around."

"You were... there...?" Shinsuke whispered.

"I've said it already. We ran after you once we knew where you were... where Sensei was. If not for us-"

"To hell with you, Zura," Shinsuke hissed and tried to got up.

Zura appeared by him at once, trying to stop him, but Shinsuke angrily pushed his hand away and sat up on his makeshift bed.

Zura moved back, offended. "Could you please behave? I know you're hurt, but show some gratitude that-"

"Zura, would you finally shut up?" Gintoki threw.

Shinsuke looked at him. Gintoki adjusted a swathe on his arm and said no more. There was hardly any life to his eyes; his face with superficial cuts healing... no, his whole frame seemed apathetic. Shinsuke realized he would rather stare at him than Zura, who seemed a bit too happy for his taste.

But what could ever come from staring...? In fact, he didn't want anyone next to him. Supporting himself on the wall, he slowly rose; this time Zura didn't offer any help. "I want..." he started and swallowed. "I want... to see..."

"You should rest," Zura repeated, still turned away with his arms folded.

"I'll take you," Gintoki said and got up as well; then he gave him his hand, and they left outside.

They heard a thump, as if someone banged his fist against the wall. Gintoki's fingers clenched on his wrist involuntarily, but no word followed.

At the height of summer, the forest was beautiful - with intense greenness of the trees, distinct scent of the flowers, and sounds made by birds and cicadas - but to Shinsuke everything appeared dull, colourless and devoid of any meaning. The time he could still admire the nature, seemed to belong to another life, to someone else... He treaded on the soft moss, the ferns tickled his legs, but he might as well be walking down the rocky road or through the wild valley. Soon, he grew weak and had to lean on Gintoki; however, he was determined to keep walking until he reached his goal, no matter the price - the feeling that seemed awfully familiar. He let his head droop; it was no use looking around.

At some point, the trees got more scarce, and they left the woods. The terrain ended in a cliff here. Near its edge, a fresh grave was to be seen: a pile of earth without a mark, without anything... Gintoki led him, and they stopped there. Neither of them said anything.

Shinsuke sank to his knees and stared at the mound blankly. He couldn't really take in the view. Here was where Shōyō-sensei rested? Under that heap of earth? The man that had been staying by his side for so long that it'd seemed he would be there for ever...? It was so hard to believe he was really gone - even though Shinsuke witnessed his... end with his very eyes. He didn't believe he would ever fully comprehend it. It seemed to odd, so... awfully unreasonable. Just like that grave in the middle of nowhere, a bare elevation on the edge of the precipice. Shinsuke regarded it and couldn't feel a thing - except for the pain that was there to stay inside him.

"Did you... make it?" Gintoki's voice, hesitating, penetrated his thought.

"I did," he replied though talking seemed difficult.

"Did he... say anything...?"

Shinsuke shook his head; his throat clenched. Again, he remembered the look that Shōyō-sensei had given him there, the most beautiful and most cruel farewell... He knew he would always keep the memory of it to himself; it was too precious to share it with anyone, even - especially - those closest to him. He swallowed, realizing with bad joy that only he had been there; only he could _see_, witness, stay there until the end... But the impression quickly faded, leaving him with pain and indifference. He couldn't tell which was worse.

"Don't be mad at Zura. He's an idiot, but he does care," Gintoki spoke again. "He blames himself for not... coming earlier," he added in a lower voice. "We might have... Maybe we would have been able to..."

He didn't finish, but Shinsuke knew what he meant, and that made his heart hurt even more - but that was all, as if nothing could really hit him any more. He put one hand on the soil that had managed to dry already in the heat. If he removed it, would he see Sensei's face? Was it really all over? Would he... never see him again...

"Leave me alone, Gintoki," he choked out, never taking his eyes off the yellow earth, and soon he could no longer feel the presence behind his back.

He was alone. No matter how many people surrounded him, he was alone again. He had been robbed of everything and bereaved of any sense. He had been taken away what was important to him - and no matter how many times he repeated it and asked the reason why, that was an unchangeable fact, truth, reality. How could he live? Even if the pain eased one day, it would be replaced by the feeling of emptiness that nothing could fill. That emptiness had always been inside him, but until now it had been obscured by the presence of Sensei, who was now gone and would never return. It was that indifference to anything, that couldn't be banished from his heart. Shinsuke knew that Sensei was a man one met once in a lifetime, and only if one was lucky. He had been - for a while, not for ever. Every day he'd feared that he would lose his happiness, and then it had happened. He was alone again... and, to tell the truth, he didn't want anyone.

He kept staring at the grave with dry eyes; he no longer had tears, having shed all of them in Kasaya. He didn't need them. He didn't need anything, for nothing mattered any more. Should it stay like that...? Life without hope, without joy, without warmth? Only cold emptiness that nothing could warm up...? What else awaited him in the future?

Nothing. The realization was overwhelming.

He rose and, on numb legs, approached the edge of the cliff. It appeared deeper and steeped he'd assumed. He turned to look at the tomb again, as if asking the approval, but the only answer was silent as death. He closed his weary eyes and made a step forward...

His intentions were thwarted as he was forcefully pulled backwards. Gintoki tossed him on the grass and then squatted on the brink of the precipice.

"Why...?" Shinsuke rasped. "Why did you have to do it?! First Zura, now you...! I didn't ask that, I-"

"Shōyō-sensei," Gintoki replied, not looking at him. "He asked... I promised him... to protect everyone..."

Shinsuke froze... and then glanced at him with hate, clenching his fists. So Gintoki had something like that... something that Sensei had _left_ him. He lowered his head. He himself had nothing, only that farewell look... and thanks for everything. The final end, parting, and no hope.

When Gintoki helped him up, he didn't object. They returned to the wooden shack, where Shinsuke threw himself onto the bed and plunged into dark despair without a single light.

* * *

"Takasugi, how long are you going to mope around?" Zura said three days later. "You know you're not the only one who suffers because of what happened. But it's high time to get hold of yourself. Look at Gintoki: he doesn't play a martyr even though he has every reason to do so."

Smartly, Gintoki kept quiet.

'I hate you, Zura," Shinsuke thought. 'I hate both of you,' he wanted to say but remained silent because most of all he hated himself. He had been unable to save Sensei; he could only witness him dying. He was weak; he'd always been weak, but he had believed to one day get stronger and become a man that could fight for what was dear to him - yet in the end he was just a kid unable to achieve anything. Unable to change anything. He couldn't even kill himself since Gintoki kept an eye on him.

"Do you think Sensei would wish that?" apparently Zura decided to change tack; Shinsuke saw through him. "Do you think he would be pleased, seeing how you mortify yourself? I think he wouldn't. It seems you were his... _favourite_," he added in a drawl; obviously, saying it wasn't easy for him. "I'm pretty sure he would be very disappointed, seeing you like that."

'For once, Zura, you're talking sense,' Shinsuke thought ironically. 'Almost,' he added right away, 'for Sensei is no longer with us, and thus such talk is just a talk without a meaning.'

Still... Something stirred inside him - some idea he'd already forgotten. In fact... Zura was right, although admitting it wasn't easy for _him_. How long was he going to lie like this, doing nothing...? Indeed, Shōyō-sensei had been gone, but he still wouldn't be pleased... Everything was pointless - but lying and waiting for death was too, he realized. What he wanted most was to vanish into thin air, but only thinking of it would make it happen. He was pathetic, and he knew it. And even though it was all the same to him - indifference and emptiness grew day by day - suddenly he felt he would no longer bear Zura's foolish sophistry.

He sat up. His injuries were healing at a good pace, and rice gruel that Zura forced on him also contributed to his recovery. Soon, he would be able to raise a sword again - and that thought also stirred something inside him. He realized his numb mind was actually able to look into the future: he could imagine himself... holding a sword... fighting again... Warmth spread in his chest, _relieving the pain_, and he remembered the last time he experienced that feeling: being light, strong, and purposeful. Yes, it was when he'd been cutting his enemies, taking revenge and indulging in rage of destroying.

It was as if a star exploded in his mind. "Let's join Jōishishi," he said, clenching his fists.

"Don't talk nons-" Zura started out of habit, and then he paused, turning around so abruptly that his long hair swirled.

In his spot by the wall, Gintoki raise his head.

"They killed our master, accusing him of the revolt," Zura said slowly, coming closer and squatting. "It's only natural that we should inherit his ideals," he added emphatically. "Expel the invaders, bring freedom to Japan... But we're going to become the rebels," he noticed.

"We already have, Zura," Gintoki reminded him; there was finally some life to his voice."

"We'll destroy all of them," Shinsuke vowed. _Aliens, that corrupted government, and the whole world that has no right to exist when the best of people is no longer here._

Gintoki and Zura exchanged looks and then nodded. That moment, more than ever, they seemed like the companions, but to Shinsuke it didn't matter. He was never going to trust anyone again; bonds brought only suffering.

He fell down on the bed and closed his eyes. He barely listened to Zura making plans and speculating on their next move, and to Gintoki, who murmured in agreement. For the first time in very long, he felt at peace.

Emptiness and indifference... He wouldn't give in to them. As long as he could hold his sword, he would be able to feel that intoxicating heat, keeping the piercing cold from his soul. He would turn the pain into strength to crush all people, for they didn't deserve to live. And when he achieved that, he would put down his arms and move on to finally...

He smiled; the muscles of his face tensed oddly, having forgotten such grimaces.

'Wait for me, Sensei.'


End file.
